


Coming Up Roses

by curiouscorvid (prometheanTactician)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Flowers, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, some blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-03 01:58:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12738708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prometheanTactician/pseuds/curiouscorvid
Summary: They’d been in a relationship for over a year, and dancing around the issue of what was essentially a relationship for ages before that. Jon knew exactly how Edward best liked his hot chocolate and Edward knew how Jonathan liked his coffee, and they could both predict when the other would require their drink of choice. They had a sense of each other's issues and what to do about it. They trusted each other more than either had ever been able to trust someone. They lived together, they shared a bed, they loved each other.Or at least, Edward thought they did.





	Coming Up Roses

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a silly spur of the moment thing I did in like ten minutes, so it's not the best, but I liked the idea.

They’d been in a relationship for over a year, and dancing around the issue of what was essentially a relationship for ages before that. Jon knew exactly how Edward best liked his hot chocolate and Edward knew how Jonathan liked his coffee, and they could both predict when the other would require their drink of choice. They had a sense of each other's issues and what to do about it. They trusted each other more than either had ever been able to trust someone. They lived together, they shared a bed, they loved each other.

Or at least, Edward thought they did.

There was nothing abnormal or notable about the day it happened. They were simply sitting at home, reading their respective books. The night had settled outside and the rain hit the windows of their home in a steady rhythm. Edward looked up from his novel. Jonathan got so wrapped up in books. He was more emotive when reading than he was in every day life, his glasses would slide down his nose a little as he looked down at the page in front of him. He could go like that for hours and not know a moment had passed. Now if only he would look at Edward the way he looked at his books.

Edward felt a warm fondness bloom in his chest, love and affection encasing his heart. Then he felt a tickle in his throat. It was nothing unusual, and so he tried to go back to his book and clear his throat. It only got worse. He could feel something in there but what- He tried to cough a little and dislodge whatever it was, but as soon as the first cough sounded he was overcome by a fit completely out of his control.

He covered his mouth, closing his eyes against the soreness blooming in his throat as he failed to stop coughing. Then suddenly it was over, he could breathe again, and there was something in his hand. He stared at it with wide eyes, confused and alarmed.

“Edward?”

His gaze snapped up, his hand closing tightly as he returned the gaze of a seemingly concerned Jonathan Crane.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine.” He assured, a bit hoarse. “I’m absolutely fine. Just need some water, I think.” He laid his book down and got up, quickly heading to the kitchen. He did get himself some water, but he also opened his hand over the trash, watching the delicate purple petals fall into it easily, crushed by his hand.

 

\---

At first he’d thought perhaps it was a fluke. Did hanahaki even have flukes? If it did, this wasn’t that. Every time he thought too long or too fondly about Jon, any time he looked at him too long, any time Jon tried to kiss him or hold him, Edward would feel a tickle in his throat. Hanahaki was exacerbated by contact with the subject of the unrequited love and, seeming as they lived together, Edward saw Jonathan quite often.

It didn’t take long before blood came up with the petals.

He’d been successful in hiding the petals and most of the blood, but the coughing was not as subtle and it wasn’t long before Jonathan was insisting he see a doctor. He went gladly. His throat felt raw and sore all the time. It hurt to eat or drink or talk, it hurt to swallow, and it especially hurt to cough. He felt nauseous more often than not, a result of the more poisonous flowers he would produce. So far he’d coughed up hydrangeas, iris’, chrysanthemums, sunflowers, and snapdragons. Only the last two were non-toxic, and the sunflower petals were so large they were probably killing him ably anyway.

The doctor sent him to a specialist, which he’d already known was going to happen. The specialist didn’t believe him at first when he’d said he wasn’t having an affair, or that he didn’t love anyone other than his current partner. Then she’d asked a question that made his blood run cold.

“Does your partner love you?”

It brought Edward up short. Jonathan didn’t say it often, but the fact that he said it at all was a big deal. He also showed it in actions, and he wouldn’t be bothering with any of it if he didn’t love Edward…

But then, hadn’t Edward always doubted his sincerity? Hadn’t Edward always suspected he was being used somehow? Wasn’t there always a little voice in his mind that, when Jon expressed his love, insisted it was a lie?

Hanahaki was a physical disease that was triggered by mental processes. If the mind recognized the subject loved someone, and then came to believe that love was unrequited, there was a chance the illness would develop. There were measures that could be taken in regards to physical medication and surgery but in cases such as Edwards, where the love didn’t seem to be unrequited at all, it was suggested he see a therapist.

He couldn’t do that. He was the Riddler. He was escaped from Arkham. Any therapist or psychiatrist he saw would either work in the place he was trying to stay away from or would send him there.

It got harder to hide.

He avoided food due to the agony his throat was constantly in, and even if he managed to eat, the poisonous things inside of him would not allow him to keep it down. He couldn’t hide it anymore. He couldn’t so much as glance at Jonathan without hacking up blood and whole flowers.

So there he was on the floor, doubled over, his hands covered in his own blood and clutching the entire head of a yellow chrysanthemum.

At least it wasn’t an entire goddamn sunflower.

Jon’s hands were gripping his arms tightly, keeping him from completely keeling over. He was kneeling in front of Edward, trying to meet his eyes, his voice urgent as he spoke. Edward closed his eyes. Every time he looked at him, it just got worse.

“Who is it?” He heard Jon ask, sounding strangely afraid. “Edward, who is it?!” He shook him a little, demanding his attention, and something in Edward broke.

“It’s you!” He snapped finally, after months of avoidance. After months of lying and hiding, of being distant and staying out late, of doing all he could to avoid their bed, of avoiding the comfort he craved in his lovers arms. After months of trying to keep Jon out of it, he had finally failed. It was a fool’s errand. Jon was involved from the start.

“...What?” Came the quiet question, then louder. “Edward, I already know you’re having an affair. Just tell me-”

“I’m not!” He insisted, refusing to shrink under the stern tone, hearing Jon’s barely contained rage in his voice. “I’m not having an affair! I wouldn’t do that to you, I-!” He made the mistake of looking at Jonathan, and a full-body shudder shook him before he was pulled into another coughing fit.

He ended up slumped against Jonathan, forehead on his shoulder, and despite the accusations Jonathan held him anyway.

“That’s where you’ve been.” Jon guessed quietly. “That’s why you’ve been distant. You’ve been hiding this.”

It hurt too much to speak. Edward just nodded.

“But- I don’t understand.” Jon pulled back, one arm holding Edward upright and the other pushing his hair out of his face. “This shouldn’t be happening. I love you.” Edward did not reply. “Edward. You do know I love you, yes? I’ve told you that. I’ve _shown_ you that.”

“I can’t believe it.” Edward barely managed, covering his face in shame. “I know- logically, I know it’s true but- but somewhere in my mind I still think no one could ever… There’s no way you could possibly…”

“Edward Nygma.” Jonathan sounded absolutely furious, taking Edward’s face in both of his hands. Edward opened his eyes and met Jon’s. They were filled with a desperate passion, a wild concern that made Edward anxious just looking at it. Jon was terrified for him, and would do anything to stop this.

Edward didn’t cough.

“I love you, you damn fool. Hate yourself all you like, but that is not going to change how much I adore you. It won’t change how much I love you, and I will not allow this to take you from me, do you understand?” The older man seethed, as if he could personally fight off a disease. “It is absolutely ridiculous that this should kill you on account of me apparently not loving you, when I love you more than anything in this godforsaken hellhole of a world. If you had told me about this before it had gotten this bad then I could have performed your required therapy my goddamn self, which in my professional opinion would have been a conflict of interests but also a helluva lot more effective. Why in Gods name did you hide this from me?!”

“I-” Edward was openly crying now, trying to wipe his eyes with shaking hands. “I didn’t want you to think that I loved someone else, and I didn’t want to hurt you by telling you that I didn’t think you really loved me-”

“And you thought watching you _die_ would hurt me less?!” He was yelling. Jon never yelled. Edward realized how badly he fucked up but he couldn’t think of how to fix it. “Edward, you are by far the _stupidest_ genius I have ever met.”

“I’m sorry.” He choked out miserably. He was pathetic. He was trash. He was-

He was being pulled towards Jon and held tightly against him, long arms surrounding him and Jon’s face pressing into his hair.

“We’re going back to the doctor.” Jonathan spoke, his muffled voice sounding oddly shaky. “We are going to get you short-term medication, and we are going to begin long-term therapy sessions until we reach a point where your self-loathing doesn’t trigger this.”

“You’re not going to leave me?” He barely dared to ask, his shaking hands clutching at Jon desperately.

“God- Edward, did you not just listen to my dramatic speech? No, I am not going to leave you. We are going to have words when you are no longer _literally dying_ , but I am not going to leave you.”

Carefully, slowly, Jonathan moved away from Edward and helped him up off the floor. They both had blood and petals on them, but neither seemed to care. Jonathan had a plan to keep Edward alive and if there was even a chance it would work, then they would take it.


End file.
